What is Past
by Saoirse7
Summary: What might have happened after Edmund came to Aslan's camp. Siblingfic, no slash.


**Disclaimer: All characters and places, of course, belong to the illustrious C.S. Lewis. And since he has long since passed into Aslan's Country, it would seem that I'm not him…**

"Here is your brother. There is no need to talk to him about what is past."

The instant Aslan moved away, Lucy sprung to meet him, wrapping her small arms around his neck and holding tight. Edmund couldn't help but grin, even as he staggered back slightly. Susan paused for only a moment, then she, too, enveloped her younger brother in a hug of relief and acceptance. Peter stood in the background, unsure of how to respond. Finally, the girls shifted back, and the eldest stepped forward to greet the one who had just come into the camp.

Peter couldn't help but notice how wan and tired he looked, eyes dark against his pallid skin, bottom lip split, no doubt from being struck. _What has he gone through?_ he wondered. _How terrible _is_ this Witch?_ And his heart broke for this boy that had needed to learn the meaning of family the hard way.

"Glad you're back, Ed," he muttered, not trusting his voice and ducking his head so Edmund wouldn't see the tears that glittered in his eyes. He ended the sorry display of forgiveness by sticking out his hand, as though by shaking it, all would be right in the world.

Edmund clasped the proffered hand tentatively. Was his brother really glad to see him? His demeanor didn't say so. Determined not to let his hurt show, he went to shake Peter's hand firmly, when suddenly the elder, tears streaming down his cheeks, pulled the boy into a tight hug.

"I really am glad you're here, all right," he whispered against Edmund's ear. "I've missed you, little brother."

The boy was finding it hard to speak crushed against Peter's shoulder as he was, but he tried anyway. "I missed you, too. I'm sorry I've been such a beast."

Peter leaned back slightly, so he could look into his brother's eyes. "I didn't help matters. I'm sorry, too."

Edmund didn't know quite how to react to this unexpected—yet welcome—show of his family's forgiveness and acceptance. All he could do was give a small smile, not having the words to convey how he felt in the moment. But they seemed to understand.

In a split second, however, the happy moment was interrupted by the arrival of the Witch's dwarf—she demanded an audience with the King. All creatures in the path she was taking clambered out of the way, so as to not even be remotely close to her.

A deal was about to be made.

xxxxxxx

"_How cold you look! Come and sit with me here on the sledge and I will put my mantle round you and we will talk."_

_Edmund knew something was wrong with that statement, but, for the moment, he couldn't remember what it was. He started backing away, away from the Snow Queen and her glistening sleigh._

"_Turkish Delight for the little prince!" came a cruel voice behind him as two hands grabbed him roughly by the collar, tossing him into a frigid dungeon._

_Edmund scrambled up, pulling at the bars frantically, but to no avail. They held fast. _

_The woman in the sleigh continued to gaze at him placidly, a mocking smile on her lips now. "How cold you look!" she repeated, but it no longer sounded welcoming. _

"_Get me out of here!" he cried. "Aslan!"_

_The cuff he received from the Witch knocked him back against the wall of his cell, and he rubbed his cheek miserably. "Care to do that again?" she asked derisively. _

"_Aslan," he whimpered, and suddenly the Witch somehow had him in her clutches again, lifted by his shirt off of the ground. _

"_If either of you mention that name again, he shall instantly be killed," she hissed in his face. _

_Edmund could hear the WHIZZ—WHIZZ in the background, and his eyes widened. A knife being sharpened. Oh, Aslan. He was going to die._

"_Every traitor belongs to me." There was a wicked glint in her cold, unfeeling eyes as she said it, even as she smirked. Edmund knew at this moment that she was entirely evil, without a righteous bone in her body._

_The knife was in her hand now, and his head was viciously jerked back as the blade neared his throat. _

"_Aslan!" he screamed with what breath he could muster_—and sat up suddenly, gasping for air, cold sweat dripping down his back. The ice and snow had vanished; all he could see was the faint early morning light creeping between the flaps of the tent. He was in Aslan's camp. Safe. Everything had been a dream. He tried not to remember how most of it hadn't been a dream, not long ago, and slowly let out a sigh of relief. What Aslan had told him was true, and only the future remained.

Only then did he realize that his brother was sitting up beside him, gazing into his face with wide eyes and a worried expression.

"Ed, are you alright? What happened?"

The boy swallowed and managed a weak smile. "Just a dream. It—uh—I'll be fine."

Peter moved closer, his brows still furrowed, and put his strong arms around his brother's thin shoulders in an embrace. "You're shaking, Edmund."

"It was about the Witch," he murmured, fighting back tears and hoping that the small explanation would be enough.

It was, and Peter tightened his grip. "It'll be okay," he whispered. "You're here now, and the Witch has left."

His elder brother's warmth calmed him, and his eyes began to grow heavy again. But he was afraid to go back to sleep. What if she haunted his dreams once more?

"It'll be okay," Peter repeated, as if he had read the boy's thoughts. Gently, he released his brother, coaxing him to lie back down. Finally complying, Edmund closed his eyes, a sleepy yet contented smile on his face.

He fell into a deep sleep, and the only thing he could remember from his dreams in the morning was a warm, golden light, washing over him, simultaneously soothing, refreshing, and strengthening him.

**I hope you enjoyed this! I would love to hear from you about what you think!**


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